by P. Creeden
Tidings of Joy
THE 12 MYSTERIES OF CHRISTMAS
P. Creeden
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
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Tidings of Joy © 2019 P. Creeden
Edited by Bellemuse Press
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Chapter 1
Joy Harper liked to spend Sunday mornings at the cafe on Mistletoe Drive just to see how many people would pick up the Sunday paper before church. She held the vanilla and peppermint flavored coffee right below her nose to breathe in the comforting aromas. Only during Christmas time did she like this particular combination. Otherwise, she simply took her coffee black with two sugar cubes, the same way that her long-time boss, Mr. Carter took his. He'd had a special influence on her life, giving her a job that first summer fresh out of high school selling ads. He even let her work every time she was home on vacation from college as a proofreader. Then right after college, he gave her the opportunity to write and report. It's what she'd always wanted to do. It was what she'd been building up to since the day that she met Mr. Carter and asked for her first job.
The Christmas Tymes was a cliche small-town newspaper. Mr. Carter only had four people working to make each edition go to print, and though they used to print a daily morning and afternoon paper when Joy was a child, slowly it had been edged out by television and social media. Only a morning paper had been available, and for the past year, the Christmas Tymes had only been available on Wednesdays and Sundays - with most of the paper used for coupon clipping, classified ads, announcements, comics, and local feel-good stories.
"You about ready for another cup? Or can I interest you in a scone?" Bethany, the waitress asked, pushing a blond tendril behind her ear.
Joy looked down at the cup she held in her hands. Even though she'd been sitting in the same position for nearly an hour, she'd not even taken one taste of the lovely brew. She took a sip and then nodded. "I'll take a piece of that cream cheese coffee cake if you have it."
"I do!" Bethany said with a wide smile and then darted away.
The Christmas tree lot across the street wouldn't be open until well into the afternoon, after church, and when the parishioners had finished their fellowship. It was tradition in Christmas Tyme that even the cafe would close shop from ten a.m. to noon so that the owner and waitresses could attend church services. At one time, it used to not even open until noon, but somewhere along the way, the owner had decided that many, like Joy, enjoyed the coffee enough to come on Sunday mornings beforehand, and it became a frequent meeting place. Right at ten a.m. two vans showed up in the parking lot for those who also liked to carpool together for the services.
Bethany returned to Joy's side and took off her apron. After folding it and placing it on the back of the other chair at the small cafe table, she smiled again at Joy. "You ready to go?"
With a nod, Joy stood and downed the last sip of her coffee before setting the cup back in the saucer with a little porcelain clink. It had become ordinary to leave the tables exactly as they were and return to help clean up after church. Holly, Bethany's sister, bounded toward the door ahead of the others, opening it for everyone.
Soon, they were all getting ready to load into the church van together for the normal jaunt to the church. Bethany locked up the cafe and then rushed to join the rest. As the van door closed tight, the driver, Brother Billy led them all in a song. Somehow, riding in a small group like this to church always made Joy feel a bit like a kid again. One of the perks of living in a small town like Christmas Tyme was in the ease of walking anywhere she wanted to go. Joy didn’t need a car, though she sometimes used her bike when the roads were passable and the weather allowed. Even the trek to the church from the cafe would have been doable, had it been earlier in the morning so she could make it to service on time. Instead, Joy had the pleasure of being chauffeured with friends and neighbors to their place of worship each Sunday, making it feel like a true day off.
When they arrived in the church parking lot, several of the members were walking in from the street or from the parking lot. Joy caught sight of Jeremy Hunt, and her heart fluttered. He had a hand on the back of each of his two children as they headed toward the children’s grandmother, Mrs. Merry Hunt. The moment Merry met eyes with Joy, she smiled and waved her over. Joy tightened the scarf around her neck and came closer. “Hello, all. It’s a bit chilly this morning, isn’t it?”
Merry laughed and nodded. Jeremy’s daughter rolled her eyes and his son didn’t lift his eyes from the cell phone game he’d been playing. Jeremy offered a self-deprecating smile.
“It is a bit cooler than I was expecting. That’s for sure.” He pointed toward his sweater which wasn’t quite enough warmth for the weather under his suit jacket, but Jeremy seemed manly enough to handle it. His policeman’s badge hung from his belt loop just to the side of the buckle.
Merry leaned in toward Joy. “Won’t you sit with us? I enjoy your company.”
It was nice to be invited to spend time with someone in town. Eight years ago, while Joy was still in college, her family moved to California, opting for the more mild climate. But Joy couldn’t have imagined leaving Christmas Tyme. Still, ever since then, she’d had a standing invitation to sit with their next door neighbor Merry or Merry’s best friend, Figgy, during the services. Jeremy had always sat on his own with his wife and family until the divorce two years ago. Then he’d begun sitting with Merry and Figgy, and the children when he had them for the weekend. It was during that time, that Joy had gotten to know him. Even though he was six years her senior, she’d grown quite fond of his kind nature and gentlemanly ways.
She really couldn’t understand why any woman wouldn’t have appreciated a good husband like Jeremy so that they’d end the relationship in divorce. Then she’d heard the rumor that his wife had cheated on him and moved to the next town over to live with her new fiancé. That just made her heart go out more for him.
But Sundays were the only day that she really even spent any time with him. And when the children were in town, she spent even less time talking with him, since he really had too many things to focus upon. With a small sigh, she settled in her seat next to Merry just as the choir began their opening hymn.
The sermon was about giving and receiving with grace—a perfect topic for the upcoming holiday. The music was pleasing to the ear, and Joy’s heart soared to the heights of the
auditorium as they all sang the closing hymn. At the end of the service, most people stuck around for a bit of fellowship, talking and hugging over and between pews. As usual, Merry opened her arms and offered Joy a hug. She accepted the older woman’s warmth with a smile. “Hope you’ve had a great week and are taking good care of yourself,” Merry whispered in her ear.
“Oh,” Joy said as she squeezed her older friend’s shoulders, “I have, and I hope that you’ve had the same.”
Merry smiled as they parted. “Of course! Do you have plans for lunch? Would you like to join us?”
“I’d love to. But I took the church van from the cafe to here, so I need to go back the same way,” she answered, her gaze slipping toward Jeremy and the children. “Can I meet you someplace?”
Merry looped her arm into Joy’s and the two of them began walking together for the parking lot, following after Jeremy and the two children. “Head over to my house. I’ve already got a roast slow cooking in the pot since early this morning. Would one o’clock work for you?”
The flow of the crowd ebbed toward the parking lot as well, everyone moving at their own, slow pace, meeting with others even as they started for the exit. As they approached the doors, a man wearing a brown suit stepped in, sweat accumulating upon his brow. Joy blinked, recognizing the man from the work he’d done on comic strips for the newspaper. Roger Fromme.
Roger rushed against the flow of the parishioners who were flowing toward the parking area, his eyes darting in search of someone. Then his eyes landed on Jeremy, and his gaze fixed upon the badge attached to Jeremy’s belt. He darted over.
As if on instinct, Jeremy pushed his children behind him and stepped forward the greet the man before he reached them. A frown developed on his face. “What can I help you with, sir?”
The man swallowed, his eyes on Jeremy as he wrung his hands. “You... you’re a police officer, right?”
Tilting his head, Jeremy answered, “A police detective, yes.”
With a nod, the man swallowed and then finally said, “I... I think I might have killed someone.”
Chapter 2
“Killed someone?” someone in the crowd gasped. Several others in the hallway by the door to the church parking lot stopped what they were doing and formed a ring around the man who’d just confessed and Merry’s family.
Joy swallowed hard just as she asked, “Mr. Fromme? Roger Fromme?”
The man’s blue eyes met hers, his hands still wringing in front of him. “Yes. That’s me.”
Jeremy met eyes with Joy and nodded. Then he set a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me. We’ll see if we can’t find a more private place for your confession.”
The crowd around them murmured, but parted allowing the policeman and the confessed comic strip artist past them. Joy blinked, her core quivering as she followed after Roger and Jeremy. Merry and the children followed automatically as well. Jeremy guided the man toward the offices of the church. The noise of the crowd soon faded as they shut the door behind them.
“Isn’t he the guy who draws that comic strip that you like to read?” Kaitlyn, Jeremy’s twelve-year-old daughter, whispered toward her brother.
Colin, the ten-year-old nodded slowly, his eyes wide and fixed on the man who sat in the chair across from the desk that Jeremy leaned against. “I saw his picture in that biography magazine.”
Jeremy explained quickly to the pastor what was going on and the pastor nodded and left the office area to them. Then Jeremy’s arms crossed over his chest. “Now, tell me what all this is about.”
Roger pushed up his glasses from his nose and then his hands went back to wringing in front of him. “I... I had a meeting with my editor this morning at eleven. He’s not a church-goer, and neither am I. He was talking about using syndicated comics in the paper and pushing out some of the local stuff. Because that meant that my comic might be something that ended up getting pushed out, we had an argument. It got a bit heated. In my anger, I grabbed hold of the wooden baseball bat that he kept sitting near the door and I hit him with it. Once. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
The man buried his face in his hands.
Joy’s heart dropped toward the pit of her stomach. “Mr. Carter,” she barely whispered.
Jeremy’s frown deepened as he peered up toward Merry and the kids. “Mom, I think I’ll need to stay here and deal with this. Why don’t you take the kids out of here?”
Merry nodded and then set a hand Joy’s shoulder. Somehow the touch of her hand unlocked Joy’s knees which had been frozen in place. She blinked at Merry and then bolted out the door.
Joy wasn’t even sure where she was going—she only knew that she couldn’t stay there any longer. Hot tears blurred her vision as she turned down the hall of the church and instead of heading toward the back parking area as she’d been before, she went straight out the front door of the building.
The newspaper office was in a building directly across the street from the church. Could it be true? Could Mr. Carter really be dead? No. There was no way. What if he was just injured, lying on his office floor, hurt and bleeding? Joy ran harder.
Roger had said that he’d hit Mr. Carter on the head with the wooden baseball bat that sat in his office. It was Mr. Carter’s pride and joy. He’d made the baseball bat himself with his father when he was a kid. Mr. Carter had said that he’d used the bat all the way up through high school, breaking records for the numbers of home runs in the school system, catching they eyes of college and pro-recruiters. But when he was scouted for the minor leagues, he had to hang up his bat and play with the regulation ones. His father had passed away before his very first game in the minors and never got a chance to see him play. Mr. Carter cherished that bat.
The moment she got to the building, she tugged on the front door, but it was locked. The security guard, Mr. Jenkins, who sat in the booth at the front of the building waved to her when he saw her and came over to the glass door and unlocked it. “Miss Harper? Do you have a meeting with Mr. Carter, too?”
She shook her head. "No, but I need to see him. Is he upstairs?"
Wrinkles appeared over Mr. Jenkins's brow. "Of course. What's going on? What's this about?"
It took every bit of self control Joy had not to rush past Mr. Jenkins and run up the stairs. "Roger Fromme came in earlier today, right? Like, he just left here a short bit ago?"
The older security guard nodded. "That's right."
"Did he say anything to you? Before he left?"
He shook his head. "Not a word. But he seemed agitated, and he left in a hurry. I saw him go straight out the front door and across the street. He acted like he was determined to do something, so I didn't bother him."
When Joy reached the elevators, she shook her head and opted for the stairs. "Meet me up at Mr. Carter's office. He may be injured."
"What?" Mr. Jenkins said, his eyes going wide.
"Take the elevator and meet me upstairs," she called out as she raced up the steps two at a time until she reached the second floor and then pushed open the door. After jogging down the hallway, she reached Mr. Carter's office but stood in front of the door collecting herself.
What if it was true? What if Mr. Carter was dead?
She needed to know, but she also needed to make sure she didn't contaminate the crime scene. After taking a deep breath, she pushed on Mr. Carter's office door with her elbow. The door handle wasn't latched. With the slightest push of her arm, the door continued to swing on the hinges until it sat fully open, exposing the room beyond.
There on the floor in front of his desk, Mr. Carter lay in an odd position. Blood stained the gray hair on his head with an obvious open wound, and the beige carpet around his body had been dyed a deep, horrifying shade of burgundy.
"Mr. Carter," Joy whispered, taking a step backward.
Down the hall, the elevator dinged. Joy took another step backward until her shoulders met with the wall behind her. Then she
slid down the wall until she sat on the floor, her eyes never leaving the grisly scene in front of her until the door between her and Mr. Carter shut on its own and closed her out.
Chapter 3
"Miss Harper? Miss Harper, are you all right?"
From a distance, Joy could hear her name. She could see Mr. Jenkins's face float in front of her. His lips moved, but she couldn't discern a word. Then Jeremy's face replaced his, but still what he said was just as unclear. She blinked, and her blurred vision cleared a bit.
"Miss Harper, are you all right?" the deep voice asked again, while a hand on her shoulder shook it a bit.
Everything came back into focus, and Joy nodded. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm sorry. I just... I just... Mr. Carter. He's... He's really gone."
Mr. Jenkins removed his security guard hat and offered her a hand to help her to her feet. She took it and allowed him to do the brunt of the work with lifting her off her seated position on the ground. Roger stood across the hall, fidgeting, chewing on his thumbnail.
He shook his head. "I told you what I did. I'm sorry it happened. I swear it wasn't that I'd planned on killing him. It was an accident. I wish it had never happened at all."
Anger seethed through Joy as she narrowed her eyes at the comic illustrator. He wished it hadn't happened at all? An accident? Who picks up a baseball bat to hit someone with in the middle of a verbal argument?
Just then, the elevator door dinged again. All eyes were drawn that direction as a force of three police officers and a man with "Coroner" on his lapel in bright letters showed up. Jeremy stepped toward Joy and put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go downstairs and let these officers take care of the scene."